The Desert Phoenix
by TheDragonLover
Summary: This is a story featuring Wave, Jet, Storm, and...who is this? OCs. DISCONTINUED.
1. Prologue Part 1: The Legend of Rahz

"Hey, Wave!"

The purple swallow looked up at her comrade. His green, glossy feathers sort of made him stand out, board in hand, but he preferred it that way. He always liked to be the center of attention. Jet was always over-confident and cocky.

"What are you doing? The race is about to start!"

Wave rolled her eyes. Jet was entering a lot of races lately; he's been trying to prove he could beat anyone, and, if he met him again, he would show Sonic that, although he was 'The Fastest Thing Alive' on foot, he was no match for his awesome Extreme Gear skills. So far, he had won every single race without breaking a sweat, first place in all of them. He had once commented that they shouldn't try racing him if they 'couldn't handle their own piece of scrap metal'. Well, Wave added that last part on, but it served its purpose all the same.

Of course, by entering every single race he could find, he was wearing out his board and her patience. He damaged the Type-J board faster than she could repair it. If he kept it up, there would be nothing left of it. Wave would start to get on his case whenever he dented, ranting on about how 'she worked so hard' and 'it deserves a responsible rider', but then he would tell her she was worrying too much; it's not like he'd do it again.

That's what he said every time.

The swallow waved him away and said, "You go ahead, show-off. I'm sitting this one out." She smirked. "Go keep that bumbling idiot out of trouble."

Now it was Jet's turn to roll his eyes. There was Wave picking on Storm again. He hated it when she did that. "Whatever you say, tomboy! See ya at the finish line!" He turned and was about to run towards the race when Wave stopped him. She told him, "_Don't_ damage your board this time."

Jet looked at her with a smirk and said, "No problem!" He threw his board up and jumped onto it, and he raced off towards the starting line where everyone else was waiting to go. Wave sighed irritably, knowing she would have a lot of work on her hands. _Another night on the boards…_

She watched Jet slide in between two other racers. He stepped off proudly and held his board, smirking at the two with his 'I-know-I'm-going-to-beat-your-tails-into-the-ground' look. They both rolled their eyes at him and moved to the other side of the line. The hawk, however, just smirked and stood before the line, waiting for the race to start.

Wave smirked, but she hid it from his eyes. He seemed like the wind, riding that board, rushing past anyone who dared to challenge him…

She looked down at the ground. "The wind…" A small breeze played with her feathers as she reminisced her childhood. When she was young, her father used to tell her the story of the desert wind, how it used to be a wonderful phoenix who protected the pharaohs inside of their tombs…

"_He was called Rahz _(Roz, or like the Egyptian God 'Ra' with a 'Z') _he embodied the wind, racing against the sun by day and teasing the moon at night. He was so fast that color couldn't catch him, and whenever people saw him all they could make out of him was a white streak."_

She would always ask him, 'But, if color couldn't catch him, wouldn't he be all black?' He would just smile and continue his story, as if he hadn't heard her.

"_He was the one who would protect the pyramids' treasures and drive off thieves and tomb raiders. He planted traps in all of them, making it impossible to reach him. He was like a god._

"_But, then, one day as he flew across the hot sands, he saw a woman collapse on her search for water. She was a purple swallow, and she had gotten lost in the huge sand dunes. He took her to a city in the middle of the desert, and took care of her until she awakened. She was a beautiful young maiden, and he soon fell deeply in love with her. He was planning on asking her to marry him._

"_Her father, however, was deeply displeased. He was the leader of a pack of thieves he had once driven out of the pyramids. He took his daughter, seeking revenge, and hid in the night shadows of the dunes. He demanded that he give himself up, and if he didn't he would slit her throat and leave her to rot on the red sand. _

"_He couldn't leave her, and so he came before the man on his knees, begging for her release. Her father accepted, on the condition that he would be killed. He agreed sadly, and his last words to her were, 'Let the desert wind and sun protect you always.'"_

Wave would always ask him the age old question, "What happened next?" And he would reply:

"_Well, the sparrow was very sad, as she had come to love him back after he kept great care of her. But, one morning as she looked out across the dunes in tears, she saw the wind pick up, and watched as sad rose into the air. The sand formed into the shape of a bird, and it flew over her head and towards the pyramids. She could hear his voice whispering her name, calling her to follow. _

That was when she learned where her name was from. The sparrow in the story's name was Wave as well, and every female in her family was as well. They were her direct descendants.

"_Wave knew he was still watching her, the pyramids, and the entire desert. She then passed this story down to her children, and their children's children, and down until your mother told it to me. And, now," he would grin and get off of the foot of her bed. "It is time to shut your eyes. Good night, Wave of the Desert."_

She didn't like it whenever he called her that, but she let him all the same. If it made him happy, then she would let it slide for a while.

"The race is about to begin!"

Wave blinked in surprise, and realized she must have stood their thinking for quite a while. She looked at the starting line and watched as a few late challengers rode their boards to the starting line. She smirked and snickered, "What idiots…"

"3…"

Everyone line up a few yards from the line. Jet turned and smirked confidently at her, his 'I'm-going-to-win' face on. She rolled her eyes but held a thumbs-up to him anyways. Although, she really shouldn't be boosting his confidence anymore than it already was…

"2…"

"This will be an easy win for Jet." She crossed her arms and examined the competition. They all looked like a couple of wimps to her. (Of course, so does everyone else)

"1…"

/-----\

**Do you think that was a good potrayol...potrayel...potrayal...grr...was that a good IMITATION of Jet and Wave? I'm trying to get this going, and it's only one part of the prologue. But, if I put it all together, it would ruin it! So, the second one's coming your way!**

**After I type it!**


	2. Prologue Part 2: The Sandstorm

A little ways away, before the race started, there was another of the contestants standing there. His feathers were mostly white, except for the red on their tips, like the setting desert sun. He was doing what he usually did; think. At the moment, he was wondering what his parents were gonna say when they find him. He didn't have real parents; he was adopted into a foster family, as well as his 'brother' and 'sister'. Though neither of them had feathers, he was still a part of their 'family'.

But what happened to his real parents?

_They probably didn't have enough time for me,_ he thought bitterly. _They probably didn't care._ It didn't matter, though; what's past is past, and he had a better time, anyways.

He inspected his board; it was a board he made himself, with the help of a real Extreme Gear mechanic. He went back every week to make sure it was in top condition and to upgrade it accordingly. He loved to race, especially on Extreme Gear. He loved the feeling of flight, with the wind rushing past, and it made him work hard in races. He bragged a lot about his Extreme Gear skills, but he had a reason; he hasn't lost a single race. Last time he counted, he's just won five _hundred _races in a row.

That made him famous, and infamous, to many people. He's earned many nicknames: the Sandstorm (his favorite), the White Streak, the Thunderclap, all from things he did before. An alternative to 'Thunderclap', 'Lightning Rod', was earned when he raced in a lightning storm and was struck by lightning and _still_ won the race. Another more recent one was earned when he hit the five hundred win mark; 'Blazing Rahz'. He didn't know who 'Rahz' was, but whoever's name it came from was now making him famous.

His board, which he called 'Phoenix Fire', would kick up flames whenever he went fast enough. Every other racer that knew him was afraid of him. Every time they saw him coming down the track, they would quickly move out of the way. He made have a sour attitude and a big head off of his board, but when he was on and in the air…he was a totally different person. _Nothing_ could stand in his way.

As he stood there, he felt the breeze brushing his feathers. He could hear something on it, as if someone was whispering to him.

He sighed irritably. _There it is again…_ He had heard that voice many times throughout his life. He could never understand it, but someone, or some_thing, _was trying to tell him something. It was only one word, but it was always very obscure. It got clearer little by little, but only now could he partially understand it.

"…_ave…ave…_"

"Cave?" He frowned. It was much clearer than usual; it was mostly tickling at the back of his mind. Now, however, it seemed he was close to figuring it out. But, he doubted it was 'cave'…

He sighed and turned to look towards where the sun had risen a while ago. He could only see buildings, but he knew the desert was out there somewhere. He would sneak out to race in competitions, but he mostly went to the shifting sands to lose himself in its splendor. He had a bad attitude around other people, but when he was alone he was at peace. He was never angry in the desert; he just flew with the wind and let him just glide with it, as if he were flying. It was almost as exhilarating as racing, but in a different way.

He felt…at _home_.

Whenever he was tired, he would go and climb to the top of the pyramid and watch the desert without moving an inch. He didn't know why, but it just seemed like the best place to be. At night, he would watch the stars as they seemed to dance around the moon, like a lily pad surrounding by little lotus blossoms…

"The race is about to begin!"

He snapped out of his thoughts and realized he had been daydreaming again. He quickly grabbed his board and did his trademark smirk. "Can't keep them waiting! Here comes 'The Sandstorm'!" He jumped onto his board and sped towards the starting line, arriving right before the countdown started.

"3…"

He looked around at the competition. No one looked worthy enough.

"2…"

_This'll be too easy!_ He thought confidently as he dashed after the green light. He had done this many times before, it was almost a second nature.

"1…"

/----------\

**I know, it's super short, but it's a prologue! I'm trying to keep it simple for now. Doesn't that make you wonder? And I never told you his name, too! CLIFFIE!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!**

**Please R&R! Ja ne!**


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